


It's Times Like These

by muzivitch



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-24
Updated: 2011-03-24
Packaged: 2017-10-17 06:09:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/173753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzivitch/pseuds/muzivitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They're both having their own crises, but typically, it's Dean's that's important to Castiel. That will always be important to Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Times Like These

He hadn’t been called, Castiel thought. Dean wouldn’t, not now; it would break his promise to Sam, Sam’s dying wish. People living normal lives didn’t call upon the angels of Heaven. People with beautiful girlfriends and surrogate sons, and steady jobs and houses in small towns didn’t call upon the angels of Heaven. They didn’t need the angels of Heaven.

But Dean could only pretend at this kind of life.

Sam Winchester had called to him, and he hadn’t answered. He couldn’t answer Sam, he did not know the answers to his questions, he did not know what was wrong. And he had the war, Castiel thought, his eyes closing in exhaustion. The war that seemed to stretch on forever, without hope of ending, and he could never admit doubt that it would. He was the general to his side, he led the forces against Raphael, and it was his responsibility to impart hope to the angels who meant to bring peace to Heaven.

It wasn’t his job to be here.

Lisa Braeden would remain asleep, and Castiel moved forward, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed as he watched Dean Winchester sleep. It wasn’t a deep, calm sleep; Dean didn’t toss on the bed, but his face was tight, contorted, and Castiel knew he was locked in a nightmare. His own lips tightened, and he laid a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder before pressing his palm against his cheek. “Wake up, Dean,” he said, and his voice was more sandpaper rough than it usually was.

Castiel waited for Dean’s eyes to fly open, and they were forest-dark in the dim room. “Castiel,” Dean said, and he was suddenly awake, sitting up in bed, and he slipped his hand away from the gun beneath his pillow. “Cas, what’re you doing here?”

 _You’re hurting,_ Castiel thought. _You needed me,_ but he didn’t say that, instead pressing his finger against Dean’s lips. They’d been together a few times, but that time was over, and he’d been replaced. As he should have been, he thought; Dean deserved something better than an angel who would fall again.

They were both having their own crises, Castiel thought, and both would get worse before they got better. Someday, Dean would learn that Sam was alive, and the pain of knowing his brother stayed away would cut him to the core. There was no guarantee that he could be there then, or that Dean would want him. “I need to return something to you,” Castiel said out loud, in a quiet voice, and he pulled an amulet strung on a leather thong from his coat pocket. “I retrieved it. You should have it.” Sam had given it to Dean, Castiel thought. A different Sam than the one who had contacted him, a Sam Dean would need to remember.

Dean stared for a moment, and he almost reached out, but then he didn’t, and his face tightened with a deep hurt. “I threw it away,” he said, and dark regret was in his low voice. “You said it was useless.”

“It’s useless to find my Father,” Castiel said quietly, and he tipped his head to one side. “But that was never its purpose for you, was it?” Dean shook his head, and Castiel’s lips curved so faintly that it might have been an illusion, especially paired with with his dark, tired eyes. “You don’t need to wear it,” he said. “But you should keep it, Dean.” _Remember,_ he thought. _The things that were good._

“I will,” Dean said, and his hand wrapped around the amulet, the edges digging into his palm as he remembered the night Sam had given it to him. He’d wanted it back, but they’d been days and hundreds of miles away before regret cut through the empty hopelessness he’d been almost drowning in after Heaven.

He looked up as he felt Cas shift, and the amulet fell to the covers, rolling between he and Lisa as his hand shot out to stay Castiel as the angel made to rise again and disappear. “Cas,” he said. “I missed you.”

“...I missed you, too,” Castiel said after a moment, and after another he leaned in to brush his lips against Dean’s. “But this is your life now.” _It’s better than what we would ever be able to have together,_ he thought, and that thought made him a draw in a breath. “It’s a good life, Dean,” he said. “Live it. Promise me, too.”

He could see the play of expression in Dean’s eyes - another promise, when Sam’s was already almost impossible for him - but then Dean nodded. “I promise, Cas,” he said. “Live yours, too,” he said after another moment, and there was a kind of ache in his voice as his hand clenched around Sam’s amulet.

Castiel smiled, faint again, and his lashes lowered to hide the expression of a soldier who’d seen too many battles already and had no choice but to see thousands more. “I am, Dean,” he said softly as he stood. “I am living my life.” Then he was gone, like he was never there, and he only glanced back once.

They were both having their own crises, he thought, and he only hoped that he’d done something to ease Dean’s.


End file.
